Of Soggy Baskets and Battered Lilies
by Tasogare-Taichou
Summary: MinatoxKushina. He thought being Hokage would make everything easier. He was wrong.


Title: Of Soggy Baskets and Lilies  
Fandom: Naruto  
Character/Pairing: MinatoxKushina  
Rating: G

Well, that could have gone better. Sighing, the blond man leaned against the wooden door-frame and rubbed two fingers across the bridge of his nose. Lowering his hand, he raised the other to glare somewhat venomously at the sodden bouquet of daisies and lilies tied with a drooping lavender ribbon. Damned lilies, at least the daisies were making a half-hearted effort to look perky. Glancing back over his shoulder at the closed door, he winced slightly as another peal of thunder echoed through the air and the torrential rain sped up. Reaching out one foot, he hooked the toe of his sandal around woven straw and tugged the drenched wicker basket a little further under the awning's shelter.

So much for _that_ plan. Raking a hand through damp blond hair, Minato shook his head with a jaded smile. It was always something, wasn't it? Setting the bouquet down on a convenient -- and dry, thanks to the blue and yellow awning shielding it from the summer storm -- bench, he sat down beside it and ran hands through his hair again, pulling off his hitai-ate and wringing out the material. Blue eyes watched the uneven trickle of rainwater as it splattered into a puddle at his feet. Ok, so maybe he just wasn't going to get anywhere with this, and it was just time to give up. Leaning back, his green-padded back resting against the bench, he tied the faded blue cloth around his forehead again.

He'd _thought_ it would be a good idea. Something different, something spontaneous, something.... well, so he hadn't really done must _thinking_ about it, beyond the fact that since Uzumaki Kushina had _finally_ agreed to go on the date he'd long-since been trying to get her to agree to, he might as well do something impressive. So he'd gotten the flowers -- the expensive kind, even -- at the Yamanaka store, cajoled and practically begged Rin into helping him cook -- he couldn't cook toast without help, but thankfully his student hadn't minded -- what _he_ considered to be a veritable feast, and even had a haircut. The haircut had been grudging, mostly at Rin and Kakashi's insistence that he looked shaggy. But either way, he'd had it all prepared, played out in his mind like some sort of corny romantic movie.

He'd show up at her house, all freshened and clean, and present her with the flowers. She'd gasp and coo over the bouquet, blushing and smiling happily when he'd brandish the picnic basket and offer his arm in a dashing manner. They'd share lunch on a soft grassy meadow near his favourite training field. Maybe he'd have a chance to show off his signature jutsu. Then he'd walk her home beside the river and they'd share a romantic kiss before he dropped her off. That had been his idea, his 'perfect date'

Anyone who really _knew_ Uzumaki Kushina would have laughed in his face. Granted, he knew that as well, but still. Irregardless of that, the day had _not_ gone in any way how he'd planned. It had started out alright, though her reaction to his attempted romance had been to roll her eyes and snicker that next time he should take the price tag off of the flowers. She'd been skeptical of his lunch, almost refusing to believe that anything HE cooked could prove to be edible. And then the rain. The heavy gray clouds that had hung all morning finally opened up as they were walking, sending them towards shelter and drenching them in the process. He'd been apologetic, tried to come up with an alternate plan, but she'd simply glared at him before tossing long red hair over her shoulder and hotly declaring that she wanted nothing more to do with any of his 'brilliant ideas'. She'd stalked into the nearby okonomiyaki store to find something to dry her hair, leaving him standing in the rain.

Groaning, he shook his head before dropping it into his hands and listening to the even patter of raindrops against the striped canvas of the awning. It was maddening, both maddening and ironic at the same time. Being Hokage wasn't something he'd decided on in order to 'score some tail' as some of his friends would have coined it, not in the slightest, but he'd still at least expected the fringe benefit to be a decent chance in the Konoha dating pool. Most women went all starry-eyed at the prospect of being involved with the most powerful shinobi in the village, even the civilian ones, and while he certainly had his share of those, they weren't what he wanted. He didn't want some doe-eyed simpering civie who squealed in mock-horror every time he recounted a mission. He wanted a shinobi, someone who understood. And sadly, the effect of his rank had not worked on the one person he'd decided he _wanted_ it to work on. Kushina had lived in Konoha since her village had been destroyed, one of a number of shinobi from the former Whirlpool village, and no matter how he'd tried, the redhead had been loath to even give him the time of day. Where other girls saw 'Hokage' or 'Jounin', she saw 'pretentious' and 'arrogant', a fact that perplexed him because he honestly didn't know what she WANTED to see.

She'd spent months spurning any and all advances, almost seeming to go out of her way to burst his bubble at times. In fact, it had taken months of persistence before he'd finally been able to get the girl to grudgingly agree to an outing with him. And now, when he'd finally managed to secure that elusive chance to make her see him for who he was, he'd blown it. He jumped slightly as the sliding door of the shop skidded along it's tracking with a bang and her familiar figure stepped out, long curtain of red hair twisted up into a damp knot at the nape of her neck. She still looked angry, a fact that was only made clearer by the way she crossed her arms and glared at him expectantly.

"Let's just go already. The rain's letting up."

Sighing slightly -- there went any chances of a reconciliation -- he grabbed the basket and the sad flowers and followed along through the abating drizzle, the silence beginning to drag after awhile. Awkwardly scratching the back of his head, he tried to start up a conversation, only to be shot down as she answered in short clipped words, the scowl not leaving her face. They reached her apartment building in what seemed at the same time like an instant and an eternity. Setting the basket on the ground, he dropped the bouquet on top of it before shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Look, Kushina-san......"

His attempted apology was cut off suddenly by a rush of cold water, blue eyes widening in surprise as the contents of an entire washtub rained down on him, followed by the sudden flutter of apologetic cries as the poor woman on the third floor realized she'd just emptied her laundry pail onto the head of Konoha's 4th Hokage. Hanging his head -- could this day really get any worse? -- he grimaced, doing his best to shake the water from his clothes before looking back up to meet a surprising sight. Kushina was still standing there, on her doorstep in that familiar yellow and orange outfit. But she wasn't glaring at him. Instead, her hand was raised, covering her mouth as her eyes sparkled and she tried to hold back her laughter. It didn't work, and she doubled over into a fit of giggles, shaking her head before turning to head up the stairs.

Encouraged by her reaction, he called after her, brandishing the much-abused bouquet like a pennant.

"So.... does this mean I get a kiss?"

She stifled another burst of laughter in a snort, rolling her eyes and glancing back to raise an eyebrow at him with another chuckle as she turned the doorknob.

"No... it means you get another chance. Friday. And this time, _I'll_ pick where we go."

With another snort of laughter, she stepped inside and closed the door behind her. The woman on the third floor was the only one to witness Konohagakure's yondaime Hokage stand there for a moment like a wet and bewildered puppy before he pumped his fist into the air with a laugh and a triumphant whoop, scooping up his wet picnic basket and bedraggled flowers to head back down the street with an extra spring in his step.


End file.
